Moron
by TartanPhoenix
Summary: There are just some things a woman shouldn't have to come home to.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: At this point, I'm not even sure I own my own mind anymore. I promise to return all characters more or less intact.

Rating: T for now

Summary: There are just some things a woman shouldn't have to come home to, and some she should have all along.

AN: I have no idea where this came from. It's rather disturbing just what pops into my head these days. I have no clue where it's going, or if it will go. SO, any and all comments are welcome. I need idea's people. Tonight, I'm stuck on fire bad, tree pretty.

_Moron_

Albus looked up from the stack of papers in front of him as his door squeaked open and smiled. Minerva peered back at him, her eyes alight with excitement and a flush covering her cheeks. "Everything is taken care of for tomorrow Albus. Are you sure it isn't too much trouble?"

Albus laughed. "I told you before Minerva, no trouble at all. I think I still remember how to check on the students. Go, and when you finally get a chance," he added slyly, looking at her over his glasses, "say hello to Michael for me. We really should have dinner sometime. It's been far too long."

Minerva tried to scowl, but failed miserably as  
he eyes only got brighter. "Albus " she exclaimed, pretending to be scandalized. "If I find the time I will," she promised him, causing Albus to laugh again.

"Albus," she said more seriously. "We really do appreciate this. I know how busy you are, and.."

But he cut her off, raising his hand and smiling gently. "Go Minerva. You haven't seen your husband in five months. What sort of a friend would I be if I didn't let you go. Enjoy the weekend, and I'll see you on Monday."

With another smile, she was gone, and Albus was alone with his papers once again. "Lucky sod," he mumbled to himself, a few portraits nodding in agreement.

The trip from Hogwarts to their summer home in Hogsmeade had never seemed longer. The road seemed to taunt her by growing longer with each additional step she took. But, with every step, her heart swelled and laughter threatened to bubble up and out into the cool April air.

Michael McGonagall, her friend, husband, and Ministry Potions master, had finally returned. The Ministry, despite his vehement protests, had sent Michael into a remote part of Cambodia just after Christmas, and she had only heard from him once, to say he had arrived in safety.

He hadn't been allowed any communication with the outside world once his research began, and Minerva watched the sky every day, waiting for news of his return, in any fashion. During those long months, she was sure to have gone insane if it weren't for Albus. The thought of her best friend caused Minerva to smile again, softly.

They had been friends since just after his return from the war. He had been the one to certify her in the animagus exam for the Ministry. After that, they had spoken rarely over the years, until the Ministry ball back in 1954.

Some of her co workers at the Ministry had dragged her along, knowing she would never go of her own volition. She had spent the first hour sitting in an isolated corner, staring out over the dancers in utter boredom, at least, until Albus plopped himself down beside her with that trademark twinkle.

It seemed he had been dragged along as well by a friend, but they had been separated. "Much to my luck," Albus had commented at the time. They chatted for hours about their respective lives and anything else that came to mind. They were both almost ashamedly well read, in both muggle and magical literature, and could debate even the most minute detail with ease.

It was almost midnight when Albus' mystery friend finally reappeared, coming to a stop behind Minerva. "So this is where you hid yourself Albus You know, it's rather unfair for you to leave me to those harpies while you chat with the most beautiful woman in the room."

Albus stood as Minerva turned, and her breath caught in her throat. "But you seemed to enjoy their company Michael. Who am I to intrude? But, you are quite right about the most beautiful woman. Michael McGonagall, this is Minerva Stewart. Minerva, this is one of my oldest friends, Michael. He's the ogre who dragged me away from my beloved lemon drops tonight."

Michael was just forty, tall with shoulder length black hair and the most arresting grey eyes she had ever seen. He and Albus had met just after his own graduation, and been almost inseparable since. "It's a pleasure to meet you Miss. McGonagall," Michael had said, bending low to kiss her outstretched hand.

"Minerva, please," she said breathlessly.  
"Then I'm Michael." Neither noticed as Albus quietly moved away from the table, looking as if someone had just cancelled Christmas. Not long after that night Michael began to court Minerva, and she left the Ministry in order to pursue a teaching career. With Michael as a connection, Albus and Minerva had begun to spend more time together, the three meeting occasionally in Hogsmeade for drinks or dinner.

Finally, just before Christmas in 1956, the couples dreams came true. Minerva began teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts when the former professor was hexed to Argentina by a spell gone awry and he decided to retire there. Not two days later, Michael and Minerva became engaged. Albus had stood with his best friend during the ceremony and offered his best wishes as they left that evening.

It was with images of their wedding night dancing in her head that Minerva finally arrived at the small, but comfortable, cottage. Walking though the door, Minerva was about to call out, but she was surprised at the darkness of the living room. Minerva's smile returned as she heard movement coming from the bathroom and a trail of light found its way into the hallway, casting shadows along the wall.

Depositing her outer robes, shoes, and hat on a chair, Minerva quietly pushed open the bathroom door and stopped with her mouth hanging open. He wasn't alone. She simply stared as her husband grunted and another woman's hand came to rest on the glass doors. Sounds of passion filled the air, so neither of the other occupants noticed as Minerva backed out of the room, still silent, and left the house.

She walked back toward the castle, quietly, numbly, her hat, shoes, and robes forgotten. She paid no attention when her foot caught on a large stone in the road and she stumbled; she simply stood up again and continued on her way. She passed through the main doors, past the curious students and concerned colleagues, and into her private chambers, leaving a small trail of blood behind her with each step.

This is where Albus found her two hours later after being visited by several worried staff members. An afghan was wrapped around her knees as she stared into the fire, an empty pint of ice cream in reach and the Michael of their wedding photo now being pummeled with a bouquet of lilies.

"Minerva," he called, not wanting to startle her.

"Why are men such pigs Albus?" Albus' eyebrows shot up. She had only been gone half an hour before she returned. Surely, Michael couldn't have said something so quickly to cause this reaction.

He sat gingerly on the couch beside her, reaching for her smaller hand and rubbing it soothingly between his larger ones. To his surprise, she leaned against him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, trying to soak up the calm he exuded. "What happened Min?"

She shook her head, content to enjoy the silence and comfort he gave. Explanations could come later, some time after she could understand what she had seen for herself. They had been married twelve years, twelves wondrous, blissful years, or so she had thought. Granted, they had their fair share of spats over the years, just like any couple, but this? It had happened so many time over the last twelve years. She would be walking through Hogsmeade, or London, or that one interesting summer in Istanbul, and she would see the smiles. She wasn't oblivious to the stares or invitations she had received, but her heart belonged to one man, and one alone. And, for reasons she couldn't begin to fathom, he had used it for Quidditch practice before allowing it to fall into the dirt.

Albus looked down at the witch in his arms, the woman who had stolen his heart without a moments hesitation. But, this wasn't the scenario he had envisioned. He watched the uneven rise and fall of her chest and felt her clutch at the front of his robes, the only outward signs of her internal struggle. With alarm, he noticed the state of her feet when they crawled out from beneath the afghan. She hadn't bothered to heal, or even wash them when she returned, and they were beginning to turn red. With a slight wave of his hand, the damage was undone, and a gentle sigh and squeeze on his arm was his reward.

His fingers ran through her hair, seeking to offer whatever comfort she would accept. They were colleagues, friends, but there were things Minerva generally wouldn't allow even him to see. And weak, was one of them.

When she was ready, he knew Minerva would tell him exactly what happened; it was only a matter of waiting, and Albus was a patient man. He only hoped, for Michael's sake, that he found out what the other man had done before coming across him. Albus already had several ideas on just how to make Michael sorry he had ever hurt his wife, each more unpleasant than the next.

If Albus hadn't been so wrapped up in the warm body pressed against his, or the grief that seemed to escape from her in waves, perhaps Albus would have noticed the small gold band that sat beside the empty ice cream carton. It wasn't until the stillness of the room was shattered with frantic knocking and the way Minerva tensed in his arms, that Albus truly understood just how bad the situation truly was.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I just wanted to say Thank youuuu for the major responseI've gotten overthis story so far. You guys utterly rock! Please keep the feedback and suggestions coming. I hope you guys enjoy it.

"Minerva! Tabby, sweetheart, open the door!" The banging outside continued. Minerva had turned to stone in his arms, and Albus couldn't understand how she could simply ignore the frantic pounding. Michael's frantic calls were echoing around the small room.

"Minerva?" he questioned softly, relaxing his hold to peer down at her. She sighed and pulled away from him, shaking her head with her eyes closed tightly.

"Might as well," she said, more to herself than Albus. With a wave of her hand, the portrait opened, and her husband bound in, frantically trying to keep his balance. It was never said that Albus Dumbledore was a slow man, but even he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the scene before him.

Michael stumbled in, his trousers unbuttoned, bare footed, and dripping water. In his hands were the clothes she had left behind, and there was a red mark forming just beneath his right ear. Rushing forward, Michael dumped his load on a chair and went to embrace his wife.

To both men's surprise, she stepped into his embrace willingly, burying her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. With inward relief, Michael let a grin cover his face as his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Assuming the spat was over and not wishing to intrude, Albus began to back his way out of the room, but stopped when Minerva pulled away. He wasn't sure why, but something didn't seem right. Despite her show of affection, she still resembled a cornered animal, ready to strike.

She was utterly calm, eerily so, as she stood on her toes and began to whisper in Michael's ear, very much aware of Albus' presence even if her husband had yet to pick up on it. "I hope she was worth it," was all she said before stepping out of his arms, looking him directly in the eyes.

Michael's mouth opened and closed, but he could only manage incomprehensible stammers. His eyes were clouded over, a jumble of emotions vying for dominance. He reached out a trembling hand to his wife. "But..Min..I thought..it was you. You have to believe me!" It was the one thing he never should have said. Two pairs of eyes locked on him in that instant, one disbelieving, and another wrathful.

A deep roaring filled Albus' ears as he stared at the man before him, someone he thought he knew. The air around him literally sizzled and he was about to step forward when Minerva caught his eye and shook her head slowly. This was her fight.

Sensing the shift in the room, Minerva came to stand between the two men, blocking Michael from Albus' view. The last thing she needed was to spend her evening cleaning Michael out of the carpet. "Don't Michael, just go. I was there. I know what I saw." Her voice was soft, but he dared not argue with her then. He knew the look in her eye, and the tone of her voice.

Never acknowledging the presence of his best friend, Michael simply turned around and headed back out the door, leaving a dripping trail behind him on the rug. "I'll be at the cottage; when you've calmed down please let me explain. I swear it isn't what it looked like. I don't want to lose you Tab."

As soon as the portrait closed, Albus let loose, managing to crack his own glasses with his brief lapse of control. "I'll kill him!"

Minerva crossed the room and laid a hand on his chest; she could feel his heart pounding beneath her fingertips. "I appreciate the thought Albus, but I would rather not have to visit you in prison. Azkaban is so dreary this time of year, and grey really isn't your color."

She reached up and plucked his spectacles off his bent nose. When she replaced them, the lens was whole again, and she thumped the crooked tip affectionately. It was odd, her attempts to sooth him when she should be a mess herself. It was just another layer to an incredibly complex woman.

She looked up into his eyes, suddenly uncertain. "He is your friend Albus. If you would rather go and.. I would understand," but Albus just shook his head, cutting her off.

"That man," he said, spitting out the last word, "is no friend of mine. Anyone who cannot see what a gem you are is a fool. He should count himself lucky to still be in one piece." Minerva smiled faintly and patted him on the arm. Leave it Albus to say just what she needed to hear without ever realizing it.

The fact he wasn't abandoning her eased the tension in her tightly wound mind. It was strange, yet oddly comforting, and, for a moment, utter calm reigned inside of her. He always seemed to have this affect on her.

She turned her back to him, staring back into the fire, rubbing her neck. She had always stored her tension in the base of her neck, and she knew she would never sleep by the boulder she felt forming there.

It was only when she raised her hand that he noticed the lack of a wedding band. He cast his eyes around, and caught the glint of metal in the faint firelight. Albus stared at the woman in front of him, fighting desperately not to reach out and soothe her. How easy it would be to run his hands along her shoulders, kneading out every knot he knew was forming. But it wasn't his place.

So, he simply watched, and he didn't like what he saw. Working with her for twelve years, Albus knew exactly was floating through her mind. "You aren't actually thinking of going to see that sewer rat, are you? After what he did!" His tone was incredulous.

"He is my sewer rat Albus. I love him, and if he says there is an explanation, I owe it to us both to hear him out. If he were tricked, coerced, I want to know by whom and why. If not, then I'll come back, and you have my full permission to be as creative as you wish."

She turned back to him, her eyes pleading for understanding, and he couldn't help himself. He was never able to deny her anything. "Alright," he conceded, knowing full well he had no real say. "Let me know how it goes, and if you need anything," he let his sentence trail off.

She understood his unspoken offer, even if not the feelings behind it. "You've already done more than I could ever ask Albus. Your friendship means a lot to me. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"Well," he said, stepping forward and reaching out for her hand. He clasped it between his own and smiled, pulling her closer. "You could start by letting me win a chess match every once and awhile. My ego is beginning to bruise."

They stared at each other for a moment before both began to laugh. Minerva ended up back on the couch, holding her side for dear life, tears streaming down her cheeks. Neither were sure what the tears were for, but it didn't really matter. As their laughter died down, Albus pressed his handkerchief into her hands before standing. "It's getting late; I should let you rest. There's much for you to think about."

He almost made it to her door before a soft voice stopped him in his tracks. "Stay?" Her voice was quiet, still calm, but it also had a tinge of desperation around the edges. Turning around, Albus came back to her side, never taking his eyes from her. He pulled off his outer robes and hung them carefully over the back of his usual purple chair beside the fire. She rose and followed him. With a wave of his hand, the chess board appeared between them as well as their usual cups of hot chocolate and tea. The fire again roared to life, washing them both in its light and warmth. "I'll try not to batter you too badly," Minerva said, "but, no promises." And they were off.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Woot! No classes tonight. Gotta love it! Here is the next chapter of our little melodrama; I hope it's up to snuff tonight. I just want to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Keep it up; you guy's absolutely rock my oversized socks!

The light was just beginning to creep over the mountain tops as Minerva once again entered the village. A few brave women were awake braving the cool morning air, sweeping out doorways and opening shutters for the day's business. The weather was just beginning to warm, and people were once again venturing outdoors. She bypassed them all, ignoring everything around her, focused on a sole point farther along the cobbled road. Her steps were slow, but sure, never faltering.

Finally, the cottage came into view. Nothing seemed to have changed since the day before; even the ivy still clung to the walls. But, everything had, and for the first time in her life, Minerva knocked on her own door.

There was movement and a muffled curse from the other side just before the door opened to reveal the object of her ire. He stood in the door way like an arrant school boy, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. His hair was messy and it looked as if he hadn't slept well, if at all.

Without a word being spoken between them, Michael stepped aside to allow her entrance, shutting the door silently behind her. "I'm so glad you," she held up to hand.

"You said you had an explanation." There was a coolness in her voice that hadn't been there before.

He nodded and walked toward the couch beside the fire, waiting for her to join him before sitting down. Michael leaned forward, running his hands through his hair before looking back to her. "I thought it was you." The look he received could have made a pack of werewolves cry. "I swear Tabs. I thought she was you."

"The fact you couldn't tell the difference, Michael, is not at all reassuring."

His cheeks flushed, and he let a tinge of desperation infuse his voice. "She arrived not long before you were supposed to. She looked like you, moved like you, smelled like you," he added a little more quietly. "You cannot honestly think I would do something like that to you?"

"What would you have me think Michael? I come home to find..that," she waved her hand toward the bathroom in disgust. "What would you think in my place," she asked.

"I would hope," he began softly, choosing his words carefully, "that you love me enough to believe me."

She shook her head, giving a mirthless laugh. "Michael, the fact I love you is the only reason you're still in one piece," she said dryly. "Be thankful." She stood up and walked toward the empty fireplace. Her eyes were drawn to the many photographs sitting atop the mantle piece, and she ran her finger gently over several of them.

"Just for the sake of argument, let's say I believe you. The next question is why?"

Michael stared at her back, working to suppress his grin. It wasn't going as badly as he thought it would. "Why? Why what?"

"Don't Michael. Stupidity doesn't become you. Why would someone go through all of the trouble? What would there be to gain? A Polyjuice Potion could go wrong with little effort. What could possibly be worth the risk."

He stood, spurred on when she didn't shake off his hand from her shoulder. "Between your work with Albus and my research, there are many people who aren't fond of us. My guess is one of them decided to make our lives difficult. The question is," he whispered, leaning into her, "do we let them?"

Instantly, she turned on him, allowing her anger to show for the first time. "Don't! I need time to think Michael. You cannot expect me to simply fall into your arms sobbing like some hormonal school girl. Stay away from the castle, and me. When I've decided I will let you know."

She walked out the door and fled back to the sane insanity of Hogwarts. She wasn't even paying attention, but she wasn't surprised when her feet carried her to Albus' chambers. She gave the password and took her customary place on his sofa automatically. There were times when years of habit and familiarity came in handy.

"How did it go?" Albus asked, pushing a cup of peppermint tea into her hands before settling down beside her.

She sipped her tea, letting the heat flow through her, soothing her frayed nerves. "He says it wasn't him Albus. He says it was a Polyjuice Potion. He thinks someone is after us because our respective positions."

Albus could feel all the muscles in his hands contract, and it took everything not to shatter his own mug. "Do you believe him?" Albus asked, in what he hoped was a neutral tone.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the arm he stretched along the sofa's edge. She vaguely noted he smelled of lemon, and the cloth of his robe was soft on her skin. "I want to...so much. I love him Albus; even after I saw..yesterday, I still love him. I can't explain it. When I walked in on them, I just stopped. I'm not sure what to do" She groaned, annoyed at her own jumbled thoughts. "Part of me says he loves me and to believe him, but another part says lock him in an extremely small box with a horde of unhappy blast ended sckrewts."

Albus chuckled, reaching to tuck a hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear before catching himself and withdrawing his hand. "I was thinking more along the lines of a herd of starving hippogriffs and a very large steak."

Staring at her, her eyes closed and the lines around her mouth drawn tight, he sobered. "What should I do Albus? Tell me what I should do."

He set his mug on the table and grasped her hands tenderly after doing the same to her cup. His voice was soothing, calm, her tiny rubber duck bobbing in the bathtub. "What do you want to do Minerva?"

She was looking at him, but he knew Minerva was seeing something, someone, utterly different. "I want to curl up in my husband's arms and pretend like the last two days never happened."

Albus inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the tidal wave of emotions washing over him. There was only one thing for him to say, no matter what it may cost. "Then go. Take his word, and his love, and never let go. You can leave the why for another day."

Minerva closed her eyes and released the enormous breath she was holding. When they opened again, the cloud that had fallen over her eyes was gone, and they were bright again. She leaned into him, pressing a hand against his wrinkled cheek and kissed the other, leaving a smear of lipstick there. "Thank you," she muttered into his ear. "I don't know what I would do without you Albus."

Albus took the moment to inhale the scent of vanilla that clung to her skin, savoring it. These memories were few and far between, and he cherished each of them. She pulled away and smiled softly.

"Go," he whispered, choking on his own words. And, that's exactly what she did. He watched her all but run from his rooms in her haste. He sat staring at the closed door long after she left, swallowing the unbearable pain. It wasn't until the closed chimed noon that Albus rose from his seat and turned toward his desk. There were some favors he needed to call in-starting with information about a certain trip to Cambodia.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I just wanted to say thanks again to everyone who's reviewed thus far. The comments have really helped with this story, and I just wanted to let you know how much I appericate it. Keep it up everybody.

The fire blazed hot and bright in the fireplace beside Albus' desk, but the light in his eyes was brighter. His office was an absolute disaster. Robes lay handing over the back of his chair, half empty plates of food littered various tables, and mounds of balled requests littered the floor. Mixed in were hundreds of pieces to his many contraptions. He had lost control over his emotions, and in a blinding flash, he had destroyed most of his office without a thought. Luckily, it rearranged itself once again almost immediately, but his trinkets would need special attention, something he was presently unable to give. That was something he couldn't offer at the moment.

The reason for the monumental destruction lay scattered across every available inch of his desk. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of replies sat stacked, waiting, depending upon subject. Albus' eyes blazed over the letters, his eyes only catching bits and pieces of each. _'Three women..dancing..only eighteen...same robes the next morning..' _

Albus had been alive for a long time, and through the years he managed to make friends in almost every facet of the wizarding world, including the Ministry. It was lucky for him that many of them owed him a favor or two. It hadn't taken long to direct the pertinent questions to the appropriate people, and the response had been overwhelming.

Many had expressed surprise over his questions. Most had assumed he knew of his friends exploits. Reading through them, Albus began to understand the disapproving looks he received whenever he mentioned Minerva or Michael, how most people simply narrowed their eyes and changed the subject. They were under the impression he knew, and worse, approved of his friends dalliances. This fact only wounded him further.

How could he have been blind to his Michael's antics? How had he allowed the most precious of women to be taken in and then abandoned by such a man? The emptiness of her eyes when he had first arrived still haunted his waking moments.

With a frustrated yell, Albus pushed away from his desk. He ignored Fawkes' indignant squawk as the chair slammed loudly into the wall behind his desk, waking the sleeping phoenix with a jolt. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked aloud, his entire body shaking. His hands ran through his long hair in a nervous gesture. "I can't very well storm down and confront him. There's no telling what Michael may say, and it could only hurt Minerva. But, I can't just ignore it either." He began to pace beside the fire, the flames jumping with each pass he made.

Albus' thoughts drifted back over the years, remembering every instance Minerva had been left alone. Looking back, it was beginning to make sense. There had been too many conferences, too many research projects. Michael was a Potion's master, true, but not one of such caliber as to justify the excursions. Albus couldn't believe he had missed the signs. Michael was, if nothing, indiscriminate. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, even the occasional hag or nymph; nothing seemed to be able to sate his appetite for women. But, what scorched Albus' heart, was the three months Michael spent in Cambodia.

Unlike various other excursions Michael had made over the years, there was a potions symposium scheduled for the first week that Michael left. The trip had legitimate, or it would have been if he had bothered to attend. There was no research, no pressing business to keep him away from his wife. There was only a twenty year old girl named Ling and three unaccounted for months in the Cambodian jungle.

Albus' temper flared again as he remembered watching Minerva stare out the windows all those months, simply waiting for an owl that never came. Sleepless nights spent beside the fire talking, playing chess, or simply enjoying the other's company became a staple of their days. Albus still wasn't sure how he survived those months without going utterly insane. It had been the sweetest torture to be allowed to see her smile, hear her laugh, and not be able to touch her. Of course, a friendly hug or chaste kiss wasn't unheard of between them, but Albus longed for so much more. His dreams, while almost always of her, had intensified during those months. After she would retire for the evening, he could hardly wait for sleep to claim him so he could hold her in his arms, feel her tremble beneath him. The night became his sanctuary.

He could just image the couple now. It was still an early Sunday morning, and Albus seriously doubted they had awakened. They would spend their day together, before she would be forced to return to the school that evening. That special sway to her hips and impish grin would have returned, and Albus would spend the entire evening meal trying to forget why.

Albus shook his head to try and clear away these thoughts. He had a decision to make, and he didn't have long. Confronting the issue wasn't an issue; it had to be done. The question became how. As Albus saw it, there were two viable options. He could follow Minerva back to her chambers and explain the situation. He would present the facts and hope she would believe him.

The other, more appealing, option was to confront the problem. Michael would still remain at the cottage after Minerva left, and it would present a perfect opportunity. He dearly wanted to hear Michael's explanation for his actions. When as was done and said, Michael would pay for his stupidity. Either way, Minerva would be hurt. It was only a matter of when.

"Albus," a voice above him called gently, "she's just entered the castle."

Albus' head snapped up. He had run out of time, and still hadn't made his decision. It was made for him when his office door suddenly opened and Minerva all but ran inside. As soon as he saw her smile, Albus knew he couldn't tell her then. Her smile grew when she saw him and she threw her arms around his neck. His own snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. No words were spoken between the two. They had long outgrown them.

Minerva pulled away and her eyes grew concerned as she looked at him. Albus simply shook his head at her unasked question and wrapped her arm through his. They began walking out of the office, starting to discuss the latest Transfiguration article when Minerva finally noticed the bits littering Albus floor. She never heard the chatter that filled the office once they departed.

Minerva soon forgot the mess as dinner passed. The conversation was lively between the professor's, as always. Tales of weekend exploits passed between the friends. Filius had found a new process for self-levitation when he accidentally fell from his stool and tumbled twenty feet, only to hover a few inches from the ground. With refinements, he would be ready to present it to the Ministry for consideration.

To everyone's surpriseProfessor Travers, the surly Muggle Studies professor,had managed to not only refrain from removing house points for an entire weekend, but he arrived at the dinner table that evening with an uncharacteristic smile. The debate as to the reason led to questions of Minerva's own weekend. Her answering blush was enough to cause laughter from her friends and questioning looks from the students. No one noticed when Albus' laughter was somewhat stilted, or how his hand clenched painfully on the armrest of his chair.

It wasn't until Minerva turned back to him and noticed the untouched plate of food that she realized something was amiss. "Are you quite alright Albus?" she whispered, putting a comforting hand on his arm beneath the table.

He looked at her, forcing a smile on his face. "Quite alright my dear. I just don't seem to be very hungry tonight."

Minerva wasn't fooled and leaned into him so the other's couldn't overhear. "I know you're worried Albus, but everything is fine. Michael and I discussed it, and we're going to figure out who the imposter was. I..we were hoping you would help us."

Minerva's thumb was rubbing unconscious circles across the top of his hand. She had no idea just what she was doing to him. Albus' eyes, which had hardened when she began speaking, softened again, and he let a faint smile grace his lips. "You know I would help you with anything Minerva; you need only ask."

She beamed at him, squeezing his hand once again and encouraged him to eat. "We can't have you wasting away," she had teased.

He ate like an obedient child while his mind churned. All too soon, dinner was over, and the students began to file back toward the dormitories. Just as Minerva was preparing to leave, Albus grabbed her hand, holding her back. "I have something I need to attend to tonight Minerva. I shouldn't be too late; would you wait up for me? There will be things we need to discuss."

Minerva nodded, waiting for him to stand as well. "What's this about Albus?" she asked. While it wasn't unusual for him to have late night meetings, his behavior was beginning to worry her.

"Later," he promised before summoning his cloak.

Michael was wandering around the small cottage, a smirk on his lips, when it grew as someone knocked on his door. "Ah Laura," he said gleefully as he pulled on his dressing gown and walked toward the door.

His eyes bulged and the smile disappeared as he was forced backward into his own home. "We need to talk," came the displeased growl.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I have. Let me know what you guys think.

Instantly, Michael found himself shoved unceremoniously into one of his own armchairs, staring up at his long time friend. "Albus, what on earth!"

Albus rounded on him, his entire frame shaking. "How many?" he asked, his voice deathly quiet, daring to be contradicted.

Michael looked up at him wearily, hoping Albus was simply fishing. There was no way he could know. "How many what Albus? What's gotten into you man? Sit down, and I'll get you a drink."

"How many women..have you shagged..in back corners..since you've been married..to that wonderful woman?" With every ground out word, Albus stepped forward, until his hands clamped around the arms of Michael's chair, their faces scant inches apart. Albus' hot breath ruffled the hairs hanging in Michael's face, as grey eyes grew wide and then narrowed.

His entire body relaxed back into the chair, a feral grin sliding across his face. Albus straightened up, stepping away from the chair. He couldn't let himself get carried away. Every fiber of his being screamed for satisfaction, but he held back. He had never seen Michael this way and he wasn't sure just what the git was capable of. He reached into his cloak, ready to pull out his wand, when Michael spoke, and Albus' world stopped spinning.

"I lost count somewhere after 1958. Although," he said, turning thoughtful, "if you're interested, there was this one time in Paris.." He let his thought trail off and took delight in the shocked face staring back at him.

It wasn't often that Michael got the best of anyone, especially Albus, and he savored the rare victory. Languidly, he got out his chair, straightening his dressing gown and smoothing his hair.

Albus expected several reactions, but not this. "She loves you," Albus said, horror etched in every word. "Did she mean nothing to you, nothing at all? What in the hell is wrong with you!"

Michael's grin grew as he walked over toward the fireplace, where he kept his wand on the mantle. He made the mistake of turning his back on an exceptionally irate wizard and kept talking. "What can I say Albus? She's a great shag. She can go for hours, and I do mean hours. She may be dull as dirt to be around otherwise, but," He spun around wand at the ready, but Albus was quicker, much quicker.

With a sharp crack, stars flashed before his eyes as Michael fell to the ground, his wand skidding across the floor, well out of reach. Albus stood over him, a red glow encompassing him, shaking his hand out.

Reaching up, Michael almost screamed when his hand came into contact with his nose as a white hot pain radiated throughout his head and seemed to utterly consume him. When his hand drew away, it was covered in a deep red. It took everything he had not to faint on the spot. "You know I abhor violence Michael, but, in this case, perhaps I could make an exception. Friends are worth the extra effort after all."

Albus reached down, and this time Michael managed to scream like a school girl as Albus pulled him to his feet by the now throughly broken nose. Albus seemed to pay no attention to the blood flowing down his arm and robes, or the frantic clawing of Michael's hands on his. "It would be best for your nose if you would quit struggling you idiot. You already look like a Picasso; no need to make it any worse."

Albus turned and shoved Michael back into his arm chair, and waited until he looked up again, Michael's eyes filled with pain and hatred. With a wave of his wand, Albus conjured another chair and sat down, his elbows resting on his knees, utterly at ease.

The initial wave of rage had abated; perhaps Aberforth had been onto something when he used to punch the oak tree in their backyard. Now, all Albus was left with was an incredible sadness and utter disappointment. "You disgust me Michael. If I didn't think Minerva would kill me, there wouldn't be enough of you left to fill a snuff box. I do hope those other women were well worth all of this."

The blood had finally slowed, and Michael pulled his hands away from his face. That damnable grin was still firmly in place, now accompanied by a steel glint in his eyes. "They were more than worth it, believe me."

He cocked his head to the side, regarding the older man. "Not that you would know, the way you've been pining away after my wife all these years. I doubt you would know what to do with a woman if she jumped in you lap."

Twice in one night; despite the broken nose, it was rounding out to be a decent evening. Albus never seemed to react, the same tired expression blanketing his face, but Michael could read the shock in his eyes. "You didn't think I knew? Why do you think I married her? I had..hell, I have beautiful women; I wanted that one."

Michael shot to his feet, swaying for a moment from the blood loss before he began to pace. "I saw the way you looked at her. Bloody hell Albus, I'm surprised you didn't step on your own tongue. Tell me, how does it feel Albus? How does it feel to finally be the one to find something you want and cannot have? Rather unpleasant, wouldn't you say," Michael sneered.

"As a special favor for all our years of friendship, let me fill you in on what you've missed." He stopped his pacing and smirked down at Albus, his eyes malicious and wild. "She moans like a cheap Knockturn Alley whore. There's this one spot just behind her..no, I'll let you find it on your own. That's what this is about isn't? Albus Dumbledore, her great rescuer, rides up on his white horse once again to save the day. And the prize? Why, the fair witch of course. But, between you and me," he said, leaning forward for dramatic effect, "she's more of a hag, or perhaps a harpie."

Michael straightened up again, his face flushed, making him look like a bruised tomato. "That's quite enough Michael. You've said more than enough."

Michael seemed to think before nodding slightly. "Once again Albus, you're right. We both know you won't tell the wench what we've discussed, so why don't you ju.." All sound suddenly stopped.

Michael's hands once again flew to his face, this time in abject horror. His hands slid across his smooth face, muffled cries of terror filling the room. His fingers played over the seamless expanse of skin that used to be his mouth. "You never did know when to stop, did you? Now that I have your undivided attention. This time, you're the one that's right Michael. I'm not going to tell Minerva, you are. You and I are going to walk back to the castle like the adults that we are, calmly, rationally, and you are going to explain the situation to your wife."

He watched, almost amused, as Michael began to shake his head furiously, backing away. "Be a man Michael. Don't make me put you in a body bind."

With a flick of his wand, Albus transformed Michael's dressing gown into a simple set of black robes and cloak before walking toward the door. "Not a word," Albus warned, his eyes flashing as the door opened silently and Michael's mouth sudden reappeared.

Experimenting, Michael opened and closed his mouth a few times, for once holding his tongue. "Aren't you coming?" Albus asked, making a point of tapping his wand against his leg, sending sparks flying from the tip. Michael crept out the door, flinching as Albus dug the tip of his wand into his back.

"You had me fooled Michael," he growled, all the while keeping a serene look upon his face as people passed. "I thought you were a smart man."

They walked in silence, Albus' wand hidden by the folds of their robes, and Michael not daring to look anywhere but straight ahead. The long walk allowed both men ample opportunity for reflection. One, one what awaited him atop the hill, and the other on the past.

No matter how desperately he tried, Albus simply couldn't stem the flood of guilt and unease that threatened to overtake him. Michael had hit far too close to the mark for comfort. He had been best man at their wedding, had introduced them. It was because of him that they had met, and the bastard hadn't even lasted two years.

Even after this, when everything was done, Albus knew he could never reveal his feelings; it just wasn't possible. In a way, he was no better than Michael. He spent twelve years pining, lusting after another man's wife. Just because he didn't paw her like a piece of meat didn't make it any better. In the end, he had done exactly what he always feared. He hurt the one he loved most, and he would never forgive himself.

It was with determined dread a short time later that Albus gave the password to Minerva's chambers, and ignoring Michael's snort, pushed him inside. "Albus, I was beginning to wonder..what on earth happened?"

minni: If I told you how it ended, what would be the fun in that?


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Happy Thanksgiving everybody! Here's the next chapter, and I just want to say thanks for all the great feedback I've gotten. Keep it coming everybody.

Before either man had a chance to respond, Minerva was across the room and by Albus' side. Without a second thought, she took his blood stained arm in her smaller hands, running them gently over the skin, looking for injury. To his horror, Albus hadn't cast a cleansing charm before they left the cottage. He didn't even want to begin to image just what they were saying in the village.

He caught her a hold of her as she traced his palm, causing her to look up for the first time. "I'm fine Minerva; it's not my blood."

Her eyes followed his and grew as she noticed Michael's condition for the first time. Pulling both farther into the room, Minerva pulled out her wand and was about to heal his nose when Albus reluctantly stopped her. "It would be better to wait for a nurse Minerva. It's out of alignment. If you heal it now, it can't be reset. Not that he wouldn't deserve it," Albus added, more to himself, but she caught it.

"Would one of you tell me what is going on? What happened Michael?" Michael cast a nervous glance between his wife and Albus, wincing as the wand was jabbed into his back.

Taking a step away, Michael did his best to look nervous, not a difficult task. "It's simply a misunderstand Tabby. Really, there's nothing to worry about."

Even as Minerva simply raised an eyebrow and looked poignantly at the slow trickle of blood again making its way down her face, Albus was trying not to explode. "Tell her Michael," he ground out, taking a step forward.

Michael turned and looked at him, false concern lacing his features. "We both know you wouldn't want that Albus. Let's just forget it my friend," he said in a false whisper, Minerva overhearing every word, just as she was meant to.

"Albus? What don't you want me to hear?" She wheeled on him, a sense of dread settling over him.

Albus closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath. He never saw the grin flash across Michael's face. Albus was absolutely sure of one thing. When all was said and done, no matter what Minerva chose, Michael was going to spend the next twenty years croaking in his aquarium. "Tell her Michael. Either you do, or I will."

With an exaggerated sigh, and a sympathetic look plastered to his face, Michael shook his head sadly. He regretted it instantly when a headache threatened to suddenly engulf him. "All right Albus. I was going to forget everything for the sake of friendship, but if you're determined, I'll tell Minerva everything."

Michael took Minerva, who by now was more confused than she could ever remember, by the hands and sat her on the couch before sitting beside her. "I was back at our cottage, preparing for bed, when there was a knock on our door. I answered it and was pleasantly surprised to find Albus on the other side. Naturally, I invited him inside. I followed him into the sitting room, and the next thing I know, he punched me."

Michael looked up to see Albus' chest rising and falling in great heaves, his fists clenched onto the mantle above her fireplace. "He started ranting about how I treated you, how I couldn't be enough for you, that I wasn't what you needed. And then," Michael paused for dramatic effect, "he asked how I managed to weasel myself out of it. Obviously Min, I had no idea what he was talking about, and my nose hurt so badly I wasn't really thinking straight. He asked how I convinced you to forget about his woman."

Minerva gasped, her eyes now resembling owls. Michael rubbed her hands comfortingly. "I couldn't believe my ears. My best friend sent some harlot to my bed. I was so shocked, I couldn't think. He simply kept repeating I wasn't what you needed, and you would do best to forget me."

He turned away, making sure Minerva would be able to see his face. "How could you do it Albus?" he asked in a strained voice. "We were your friends. How could be betray us like this? What reason could you have to try and destroy our marriage?"

Albus was red in this face, his breaths labored, and he was on the verge of drawing his wand when Minerva turned her wide eyes on him.

Every ounce of color drained from his face, and the wind completely left his sails when he saw her. Her expression was agonized, a pain and betrayal ripping his still beating heart from his chest. She couldn't actually believe he would be capable of such an atrocity? It just couldn't be. But, every fiber of her being was telling him otherwise.

Slowly, the rage was beginning roll from her in waves, crashing against him, but it was the single tear he noticed prickling at the edge of her eye that numbed him. For one of the few times in his life, Albus was speechless. For all the logic and arguments swirling in his mind, Albus' tongue was nothing more than lead, heavy and useless. His hands slid from the mantle, leaving behind two scorch marks, flopping useless against his sides.

Minerva stood, walking toward the large window, gaining space from both men. Albus watched as her hand, which once again donned a simple golden band, came to finger the small broach he had given her as a wedding present.

She stared out at the blinking stars, seeking guidance. It was apparently not forthcoming because she sighed and leaned against the cool window panes. "Is it true?" Minerva asked, her voice steady, demanding.

The sea of auburn beard twitched as he worked his jaw a few times. He only found his voice as she turned to stare at him, taking his silence as an admission. "No!" he said emphatically. "I could never Minerva."

"Of course that's what he would say," Michael countered from his place on the couch, seeing the tide beginning to shift once again as her eyes softened. "You don't actually expect him to admit something this grievous do you? It would ruin him. He's lying Minerva; I swear."

For all his ranting, neither of them heard. They were each far too busy with their own conversation. Granted, words were never uttered, but every thought, every feeling was communicated with ease. The desperation and fear in Albus' gaze was met with hope and disappointment in hers.

Albus searched his mind frantically for a way, any way, to assure her of his innocence. Without it, even if she didn't hex him into oblivion, there would be no way to retain any semblance of her friendship, and she would be forever fooled by her husband. He would rather die.

The watery shadow of the moon along the floor gave Albus his inspiration. "I can prove it." He stepped forward, hoping she wouldn't suddenly decide against him. "I'll show you my memory. We can use my pensive. I will show you everything."

Michael began to panic, and jumped to his feet, putting a forceful hand on Minerva's shoulder. "Pensives can be deceptive," he reminded them. "Memories can be altered. How do you know if what you'll see is true?"

Albus looked at her over the edge of his glasses. "If you have so little faith in me, then view my memories directly."

Minerva stepped forward, letting Michael's hand slip away from her shoulder. She searched his face, comprehension of his meaning taking hold. "You would allow me.. you could pull me in as well?" she whispered, her voice guarded, unsure.

Albus nodded. "As long as the connection is made I could move us back and forth. My memories are yours for the taking. Always for you."

By now, Michael was sweating profusely. Legilimency was never his forte, and there would be no way to denounce the thoughts once she had seen them. Memories were only alterable once they were removed from the mind, and they all knew it.

He went to grab her arm, but he was too late. The words were spoken, and he missed his chance. Michael waited on baited breath as their faces changed, frowns and grief moving seamlessly from rage and disbelief.

All the while, the two sets of eyes never broke contact, not did Albus' hands from their resting place on her upper arms. Suddenly, the spell was broken, Albus' arms once again dropping to his side.

Before they had fully left her side, Minerva swung around. For the second time in as many hours, Michael found himself flat on the floor, clutching his nose. This time however, it wasn't in pain, but in lack of. She healed his nose. "Get out!"


	7. Chapter 7

This is it everybody, the end. I want to say thanks for all the reviews and great commentary I've gotten over the last couple of weeks. It's been amazing. I hope you enjoy the ending.

Minerva wrapped the cloak tightly around her as she enjoyed the light crunching of gravel under her boots. Even after time, it still seemed all so surreal. One year; it had been one year since the divorce was final, one year of freedom and regret, one year of shame and enlightenment.

It hadn't taken long after their separation became public knowledge that the rumors and whispers finally reached her ears, and they had burned. For weeks, well meaning friends, and strangers, expressed their pleasure in her decision. Unfortunately, most also mentioned several of his liaisons in their explanations. Minerva had stopped counting at 36 women over the last twelve years, and she knew there had been more.

Now, looking back, she couldn't believe how blind she had been. The whispers and looks in the village finally made sense, the sympathetic glances from his colleagues made her blood boil. It seemed only two people didn't know, and they were the two who should have.

Minerva reached th outer edges of the village, and as seemed to happen more often than not anymore, conversation stilled before again building as whispers began. She did her best to ignore them as she walked, but it had been difficult. She had entered the village the morning after she kicked that toad out of her rooms, her life. The had village stopped and stared as she struggled to make it into Flourish and Blotts. She hadn't entered the small community again for almost three full months after that instance.

She moved past the shops, past the small homes that lined the road on her way once again to the book store, but she stopped beside one derelict cottage. A sad smile appeared on her face as she looked at the once beautiful building. She hadn't fought him when Michael requested the cottage. She hadn't wanted anything from him; she certainly didn't want his makeshift brothel, so she had readily agreed. In one month's time, all doubt Minerva ever held about karma was erased.

It seemed that after his little 'mishap' Michael was not as attractive to his many paramours. In fact, it was rumored even the dogs would run in fright as he walked across a street, their tails firmly planted between their legs. It was only a matter of days before his cottage was put up for sale, and Michael could no longer be seen skulking through the shops.

His most recent tryst, a Cambodian girl named Mai, hadn't been totally honest in their introductions, and it cost him dearly. The girl, for she had only just turned sixteen, apparently had an overprotective father, a very large overprotective father. When he found out about the foreigner who deflowered his precious little girl, the man immediately contacted the Ministry.

Michael was forced to pay restitution to the family, he lost his position within the government, and he was now no longer to apparate outside the country without registering with the Ministry as to his whereabouts. Failure to follow these procedures, it was hissed in alleyways, would result in immediate imprisonment. Michael was now ruined in society, and Minerva hadn't been unhappy to lose track of him.

Reaching out, Minerva gently wrapped her fingers around the single lily was bloosomed along the picket fence, stroking the soft petal before releasing it again. Minerva amused herself with images of Michael begging in the streets, or better yet, busting tables in some unsavory bar. He always hated manual labor, and had looked down his nose on more than one waiter during their time together.

Before long, she found herself curled up in an overstuffed chair in Flourish and Blotts, the latest Transfiguration publication capturing all of her attention. The morning, and most of the afternoon passed in a blur before Minerva snapped the book shut. It would certain have to join her collection; there was one theory in particular she couldn't wait to begin researching further when she returned to the castle.

She had just reached the end of the shelves and was about to turn the corner, when she heard the usual whispers and rustling of robes in the next isle. Minerva could just make out the tops of two heads in the gap above the row of books, but she could hear them perfectly. "Are you sure it was her?" The shorter of the two women whispered. Her flyaway grey hair kept falling in her eyes, and the woman constantly batted it away.

"Of course I'm sure," the other hissed, her far to red lipstick smudging on her teeth. "I don't understand it. I've lost any faith I had in men. The woman in blind as a bat, but he chases after her like a love sick puppy. It's disgusting."

"How can you be sure? They've been friends for years, perhaps it's no more than that."

The taller woman snorted. "There's no mistaken Luzensia. They were walking through the village not two weeks ago, and I'm surprised she didn't trod all over his tongue. I just don't understand how or why. What could he possibly see in her? She didn't even know her husband was gallivanting behind her back. Now, she has one of the best looking men in the country pining away for her, and still she doesn't notice. I doubt she would see the broad side of a building if she walked into it." Both women laughed, and Minerva could feel her heart contract as they sauntered away, unaware they had been overheard.

Absentmindedly, Minerva made her way to the cashier and paid for her book before walking out into the cooling air. The sun was still bright, but the day was beginning to fade. Minerva never noticed; there was only one thing occupying her mind. Albus.

When Michael left, she had felt guilty. Yes, she had lost a husband, but by standing with her, Albus had lost a dear friend. The first few days afterward had been awkward for them, each unaware of what to say, what could be said. Quickly enough, though, the tension dissipated, and things were almost normal.

Thoughts of her friend filled Minerva with that odd warmth she could never understand and her thoughts seemed to calm, even as her heart sped up its rhythm. By unspoken agreement, neither ever mentioned that night, or its effects, again, much to their relief. He simply held her hand as they played chess to soothe her, dragged her out into London when she would have holed herself up in the tower. In short, he had pulled her though.

As time passed, her dreams changed from those of Michael's sneering face, to a pair of summery blue eyes. More often than not anymore, she awoke each morning with a smile and a sigh escaping her lips, humming as she made her way into the shower.

Despite the thoughts of the two betties to the contrary, Minerva wasn't completely oblivious. She had heard Michael's accusations, his reasoning. At the time, she had believed it to be nothing more than an attempt to hurt, to belittle, her best friend. But, over the last few months, she had caught his eyes once too often, seen his hands flex as she passed. His hand lingered along her back unconsciously and his breath ticked her ear as he whispered during balls and assemblies.

There was too much happening, spinning, in her over active mind to do him any justice. So, she had feigned ignorance, preferring to sort out her own feelings before confronting his. There was only one problem, and they had dropped it unceremoniously in her lap and to her attention. She had been stringing him along for a year, toying with his emotions in order to preserve her own. It had to end.

Leaning against a lone tree, Minerva closed her eyes to the fresh moonlight and let her mind drift.

A soothing, rich, voice whispered words of comfort in her ear as twinkling blue eyes stared down at her with what she acknowledged as love. She could almost feel the heat from his hands as they rested along her shoulders. Something deep within her snapped, her eyes flying open and her mouth opening slightly in surprise.

In the blink of an eye that was still far too short, Minerva found herself perched outside his chamber door. The courage that infused her on her journey back began to waiver ever so slightly. Shaking her head and squaring her shoulders, Minerva reached forward and knocked on the door.

In a moment, a bleary eyes Albus opened the door in nothing but a crumped sleeping gown and tiger slippers. He perked up immediately as he noticed the identity of his late night caller, stepping aside to allow her entrance. "Minerva? Not that I'm upset to see you, but it's after midnight. Is everything all right?"

Reaching out, Minerva took the candle out his hand, letting her fingers brush his. She placed it on the table beside them before looking back at him. Albus' brows furrowed in confusion. "Minerva?"

She smiled up at him impishly, only a hint of nerves touching her eyes. Without a word, Minerva wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, capturing his lips with her own. She moved slowly, amused by his shock and hesitation. It wasn't ever day a woman could surprise Albus Dumbledore.

When her tongue began tracing lazily against his lips, seeking entrance, it was Minerva's turn to be surprised. With a animalistic growl, Albus pulled her to him, welcoming her assault. She didn't fight as he took control, relishing the feel of his hands as they fisted themselves in her hair and his tongue caressed her own slowly, fanning a fire she hadn't realized had started. Neither noticed as he lifted her from the ground and her legs wrapped tightly around his trim waist. A deep groan at the contract was the only reaction.

Too soon, they were forced apart, their chest s heaving in an attempt to breath. Albus' face was flushed, and his beard was askew from her hands trailing through it. "Minerva, what.." he manage to chock out.

"Shh," she said, silencing him with a gentle kiss. "I seem to have misplaced my white knight. I don't suppose you've seen him, have you?" She got her answer as the candle was extinguished and he carried her quickly into the bedroom.


End file.
